


just so

by ell (amywaited)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cute, Existential, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, cerebral, cute but in an angsty kinda way, handwavey science, reflective, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24170152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amywaited/pseuds/ell
Summary: Carlos stays quiet for a while. The sepia outlook on his world gets ever darker, but Cecil remains at his desk, watching him with eyes that are so full of emotion that Carlos is surprised they don’t overflow. “We can categorise love as a chemical reaction. When one falls in love, or is in love, their brain releases chemicals to stimulate those feelings.”“But what is love to you?” Cecil asks. He says it quietly, like the words are far too big to fit comfortably in the house. Even so, they press at the walls like they’re determined to get out. Carlos can feel his body straining to contain them.“I guess it’s a behaviour. A belief. A dedication to someone. Wanting them, needing them,” he answers. “A learned behaviour, sure. But one that we can actively choose. I choose to love you. I choose to wake up every day, loving you. I choose no one else.”
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	just so

**Author's Note:**

> lol enjoy
> 
> no song for this one mostly because i wrote it while watching criminal minds. but i guess the title is kind of inspired by the just so stories by rudyard kipling, because i grew up reading that book and its stuck with me ever since.

“Why are we afraid of the dark?”

Carlos looks over. “What?”

Cecil shrugs. He has his tape deck on the desk in front of him, but it’s turned off, and a sheet of possibly-illegal paper to the left of him. The house is quiet enough that Carlos can hear it breathing with them, a sepia colour filtering into the room, just so it can be involved. “Why are we afraid of the dark?” Cecil asks again, with the sort of child-like curiosity that Carlos hasn’t seen in eons.

“It’s a survivalist instinct,” Carlos says. He puts down his own state-issued pen and turns in his chair so he can face Cecil properly. “We’re afraid of what we can’t see, and we can’t see in the dark. So, it’s not that we’re afraid of the dark, per se, but we’re afraid of what’s in it. Why?”

“I’m researching,” Cecil says, “for my next broadcast. Can I ask you some more questions?”

“I’m not sure that your listeners will want a section on science.”

Cecil smiles at him and scribbles something down on his paper. “I want a section on science. This is important knowledge, Carlos. It’s my duty as the radio host to spread information. So can I ask you some questions?”

“Sure,” Carlos says. “I mean, I might not know all the answers. But you can ask.”

Something soft and gooey fills Cecil’s eyes. “You’re incredibly smart, Carlos. Don’t sell yourself short. Now, what is consciousness?”

“Don’t pull your punches on my account,” Carlos says, huffing out a laugh. “Um. Consciousness can be simplified to the awareness of internal and external existence. But how aware of our own awareness can we be? Consciousness isn’t that straightforward.”

“Your answer makes perfect sense,” says Cecil, sounding for all the world like he truly understands. “What makes us human?”

Something about that question existing in a place such as Night Vale feels vaguely mocking, and incredibly ironic. Carlos inhales before answering, hoping his words won’t offend some otherworldly being. “I guess… that’s down to interpretation. Kind of like the consciousness question. Does our ability to self-reflect make us human? You know, we share a lot of our physical traits with apes, and we share fifty per cent of our genome with a banana. Does that make them human? Or does it make us less human?

“That’s a lot of hypotheticals for a scientist,” Cecil remarks. He seems to be diligently copying down everything Carlos says, listening raptly.

“You’re asking very difficult questions,” Carlos replies. “I don’t know what makes us human. No one really does. I guess our DNA, our culture, our morality, our language, and intelligence all do. We make us human.”

“Implying we begin life as… inhuman?”

Carlos shakes his head. “I wouldn’t say that. Not necessarily. Like I said, it’s up for interpretation. Our belief of humanity is what we live up to. What came first; the chicken or the egg, you know?”

“I don’t know,” Cecil says. He still writes down all that Carlos says, though, as if he’s desperate to understand regardless. “So, are we alone in the universe?”

Cecil’s words, for all that he means them genuinely, feel like they don’t quite fit in Night Vale. They don’t belong in such a place, somewhere that challenges all manner of being without any regard, nor explanation. Carlos isn’t sure how to respond to them appropriately, given that everything about Night Vale goes against the grain, and occasionally forgets the grain entirely.

“Uh, no. Probably not,” he answers eventually. He’s spent many an evening wondering if Night Vale itself is evidence of a different universe, of different worlds and an existence parallel to theirs. Or, whichever one could be considered theirs. He’s spent even longer wondering if it’s possible to document that; if Night Vale would let him document it. “It’s just… not really logical to believe that we’re alone. There’s a lot of space out there. Who knows?”

Cecil nods slowly. “Who knows, indeed. What’s at the bottom of a black hole?”

Carlos can’t quite help his almost-incredulous laugh. “Um. We have no way of knowing that yet. Black holes are just… spaces where gravity overwhelms everything else. I mean, maybe Night Vale could find out what’s inside a black hole, but anyone on the outside doesn’t stand a chance.”

Night Vale defies all other laws of being, it would make sense that it wouldn’t just stop at it’s disrespect for basic physics.

“You flatter our town,” Cecil says. 

“Flattery is one word for it.”

Cecil smiles at his page. “You’re wonderful,” he says. “How will the universe end?”

The sepia filter hanging over Carlos’s eyes takes on a reddish tinge. The house seems to get stuck on it’s inhale, and the blood that flows beneath the heart of Night Vale slows to a sluggish crawl, slow enough that the lights flicker. 

“There’s a lot of theories,” Carlos says. “You know, our sun is dying. One day, it’ll explode. And Earth will die along with it. But we’re one planet, with one star. I couldn’t tell you about the entirety of the universe, on the basis that I don’t know the whole of the universe. I can only tell about our planet, and our star, and our distant future. The rest is hanging in the balance.”

“So how will our planet end?” Cecil asks. His voice barely wavers, barely changes, and his apathy towards his casual discussion of the end of all things might have surprised Carlos, once upon a time. As it is, it’s comforting. Knowing that Cecil has nothing to fear from death, or for whatever might come after, it settles Carlos in a way he never would have expected.

Carlos spreads his hands, in a way that he hopes conveys his lack of knowledge. “Evolution. Mutation, environmental change, the survival of the fittest. Our environments could just… break down. Natural disasters, the oceans could boil, the ice melts, volcanoes explode, earthquakes. They’ll tear down our very foundations.”

“What a romantic notion.”

“Romantic?”

“Apocalyptic romance,” Cecil says. “It’s refreshing.”

“If you want an apocalypse, you need only look out the window,” Carlos says.

“Oh, don’t say that,” Cecil tells him. He puts his pen down, and turns to look at Carlos properly. “I have one more question.”

“What’s that?”

“What is love?”

Carlos stays quiet for a while. The sepia outlook on his world gets ever darker, but Cecil remains at his desk, watching him with eyes that are so full of emotion that Carlos is surprised they don’t overflow. “We can categorise love as a chemical reaction. When one falls in love, or is in love, their brain releases chemicals to stimulate those feelings.”

“But what is love to you?” Cecil asks. He says it quietly, like the words are far too big to fit comfortably in the house. Even so, they press at the walls like they’re determined to get out. Carlos can feel his body straining to contain them.

“I guess it’s a behaviour. A belief. A dedication to someone. Wanting them, needing them,” he answers. “A learned behaviour, sure. But one that we can actively choose. I choose to love you. I choose to wake up every day, loving you. I choose no one else.”

Cecil breathes with the walls. His heart beats with the blood that flows through Night Vale like a river, deep enough that Carlos can feel it within him. “I choose to love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. hope u liked! let me know what u think.
> 
> (ive spent the last week battling writers block, writing a cyberpunk wolfstar au, and playing animal crossing. im hoping to get back into the swing of writing soon, so there might be some more wtnv fic floating about. idk yet!)


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